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Browsing Tag: pancreatic cancer

Five Years

You know what I miss about my dad? Here’s a short list: He loved Japanese food. He loved Vietnamese food. He loved a good steak and potatoes. Um. He loved food. He’d randomly speak Japanese. He’d seen more of the US and Asia than I ever will. He read so quickly that he’d no sooner open a book than finish it. He loved ABBA. And Celine Dion. And Crystal Gayle. And the Vogues. So much to make fun of, and we did. (Except for the Vogues. They were allowed.) Wait, there’s more: He cried when he saw Les Mis on Broadway. He insisted that well water was better tasting than anything that could come out of public taps. He made our lunches during our school years and packed notes into them with puzzles and riddles and messages with an eyeball and a heart and a letter U to tell us he loved us. He offered to “drive down there” when I drove home from college in tears after a boyfriend broke my heart. He hated the Beatles. Thought they were a bunch of noise. He always wanted to…

We’ll Try

David and I ran a 5K called PurpleStride this weekend, along with some very game family members who volunteered to push our children around–all 71 pounds of them, mind you–in a stroller on the coinciding walk.  The whole purpose was to raise funds and awareness for research to find a cure for pancreatic cancer. Only six percent of all people who are diagnosed with pancreatic cancer are alive five years later.  My father was not in this minority.  And the thing with pancreatic cancer is how little it’s discussed, how little money is funnelled to research.  Pancreatic cancer is seen as the lost cause.  I don’t like lost causes.  They annoy me. So we ran. And ran we did.  Holy Moses, that was the pits.  We didn’t find out till we got there that the course was cross-country.  I thought it was a mistake when I saw the start/finish line marked in the grass.  At the base of a hill.  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” I told David.  “They’re joking, right?  This was supposed to be a fun run!&#8221…

Three Years

It was three years ago today, around 4:16 in the morning (yes, 4:16 on 4/16. We really should play that number in the lottery) that my father died in an ICU at Hershey Medical Center here in Pennsylvania. I don’t say “passed away” or “passed on,” or some other tidy little term for the ending of his life, because he didn’t just fade away. He died. Pancreatic cancer got its gnarled, evil hooks into him, and even though he fought it–fought it hard, fought it gracefully, fought it with more strength and class than I can wrap my head around yet–the cancer won. I watched my dad die. I wouldn’t recommend it. It was kind of hard. I miss him. Every day, I miss him. My dad and I butted heads a lot (any of my family reading this right now probably just snorted their agreement), but my gosh, I loved him. He was my go-to guy for books, for talking about writing, for cooking. I remember what a hard time he had when I decided to turn vegetarian at the age…